


Hit and Run

by MissTerribad



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/F, rated for language, reference to Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along-Blog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-02-03 03:32:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1729562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissTerribad/pseuds/MissTerribad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Working at a grocery store is awful. Spilling your drink is awful. Hitting a beautiful blonde girl with your car is awful--until you invite her back to your place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hit and Run

**Author's Note:**

> From a prompt at http://imagineyourotp.tumblr.com/post/67871683982/imagine-your-otp-meeting-for-the-first-time

Ymir doesn't get a discount for working at a grocery store. Like, what the hell, she loads it onto a dolly at six am, drags it down Aisle Four, and spends twenty minutes stacking soup cans on the top shelf, but she still has to pay two fifty for a can of Campbell's chunky? Bullshit. Bullshit that she has to pay the same price as the little old lady that can't even reach the top shelf.

  
Ymir almost told the old bag where she could stick it when the tiny, wrinkly woman asked her to retrieve one of the soup cans (mostly) meticulously stacked on the top shelf. But her manager barely put up with her as it was, and she really didn't need a customer complaint lodged against her so soon after starting this new job.

  
"No, not that one, dear, it's dented. What about that one there in the middle?" The one in the exact center of the stack of heavy cans atop a six-foot shelf? Of fucking course.

  
Ymir finagled the requested can from its people with long, tan fingers and barely caught the others that tried to assault her to reclaim their stolen brother. Holding the imbalanced chicken noodle army at bay, Ymir glanced down long enough to hand the woman her soup.

  
"Thank you, young man," the white-haired shopper said after securing the can in her cart and starting to move away.

  
Ymir lost her grip on the cans. The little old lady gave a harried yelp that was drowned out by the tall brunette's pained curses. She would have offered help if Ymir hadn't been hopping on one foot and shouting epithets worse than those Agnes had heard when her husband Harold came home from the Navy. Instead, she briskly steered her cart to another aisle.

  
Fuck working at a grocery store.

 

* * *

 

After hours of being trapped in the land of shelves, shoppers, and shit, Ymir clocked out, hung up her apron, and exchanged the customary "How did our lives go so wrong?" glance with Jean the cashier on her way out the doors. She was home in her unimpressive apartment for all of half an hour before realizing that her cupboards were bare and they didn't sell cottage cheese in milk jugs. She groaned all the way through putting on her shoes, grabbing her keys, and climbing into her car to return to Albertsons.

  
Since the corporate drones who control her paycheck refused to offer their employees the God-given right to an employee discount, Ymir could only afford the necessities. Jean gave her an unimpressed look as he scanned one loaf of bread, one half-gallon of milk, one box of easy mac, and a family size bag of Doritos. And a bottle of Dr. Pepper; damn impulse buys.

  
"The essentials, y'know," she offered.

  
"Yeah." He deposited the Doritos in a plastic bag. "I can see that. You just left here like an hour ago. If you like this hellhole so much, you should ask for more shifts."

  
Ymir snorted. "Yeah, but then I'd have to see your dumbass two-tone hair more than I already do."

  
"Fuck you, my hair is awesome." As an afterthought, Jean added, "Have a nice day."

  
Striding out the door, Ymir let one shopping bag hang from her fingers while she flipped him off over her shoulder.

 

* * *

 

Her car didn't have cup holders. Sometimes the right-turn signal didn't work, and one of the back doors didn't lock, but it was still her baby. Ymir took a deep swig of her soda before setting it down on the center console.

  
The drive back to her neighborhood was only fifteen minutes or so. Part of the reason that Ymir had taken the floor-flunkie position at the grocery store was its proximity to her apartment. The other part of the reason was the employee discount that didn't even actually exist. They could have mentioned that during the interview.

  
Approaching a corner, Ymir hit a bump. Her sedan's poor suspension translated the motion to her drink, which translated itself onto the passenger seat floor, hissing away its delicious life fluids.

  
"No, fucksocks!" Ymir dove for the bottle with the hope of salvaging what little of the situation there was to be salvaged. She had the good fortune to reflexively apply the brake. She did not have the good fortune to avoid hitting the small blonde figure crossing the street.

  
Ymir threw the car into park and stepped out, sticky pop bottle still in her hand. "Holy fuck, are you okay!?" Blonde hair was strewn over a pink hoodie as the girl gave a groan and pushed herself upright. She was so short--Ymir hit a kid. She ran over a child with her piece of shit car and what the fuck was she going to do.

  
"I'm so goddamn sorry I don't know what I was doing here let me help you up--" The girl accepted Ymir's offered hand and stood, wincing slightly. She blinked impossibly crystalline eyes up at Ymir.

  
"I think I'm all right," Ymir's victim reassured. "I just hit my knees when I fell." When Ymir barreled into her with three thousand pounds of metal oh my god. The girl reached a hand into her hoodie pocket beneath the college logo to pull out a shiny piece of metal. "My phone is even okay. See?"

  
Ymir looked past the unblemished screen with the running music app to inspect the girl more closely. Her head wasn't bleeding, though her hair was noticeably rumpled. Neither of her elbows bent the wrong way. She was standing upright on both feet, though the skin of her knees was mostly missing and lightly bleeding.

  
"Still, I am the most unbelievable asshole for running you over." Ymir's eyes tracked back up from the girl's feet, along her bare legs and floral skirt, to her creamy face. "Do you need me to call your parents or--" It was at this point Ymir realized she was talking to a very pretty if very short young woman. She wasn't sure if that made it better or worse.

  
"No, please, that's not necessary," the girl cut her off while stuffing her dangling earbuds into the pocket with her phone. "I'm fine, really." She shifted her weight and winced. "It's nothing a Band-Aid or two won't cure."

  
"How are you not biting my head off right now?" Ymir's earlier panic waned to confusion.

  
"Yelling at you wouldn't un-skin my knees."

  
"Yeah, but it might make you feel better to call me a reckless, blind fucktard."

  
"I'm sure you had a good reason for almost committing vehicular manslaughter." The girl's eyes lit up with laughter.

  
Ymir slouched in embarrassment, eyes involuntarily falling to the mostly empty drink in her hand. Why was she still holding this?

  
"I've got Band-Aids at home," Ymir changed the subject. "It's a block from here. I'll patch you up if you promise not to sue me."

  
"I don't even know your name, and I probably wouldn't get very far if I tried to track down the owner of an old blue Audi Fox."

  
"My name is Ymir." If she planned to take this girl to her apartment anyway, Ymir's first name wouldn't put her in any greater risk of a court summons than her address.

  
"I'm Krista."

Krista offered her hand for Ymir to shake. The brunette might even have shaken it if not for the sugary stickiness of her own hand. Instead she walked back to the driver side of her car and climbed in.  
When Krista didn't move to join her, Ymir opened her door and called, "Hey, you coming?"

  
The cute blonde shook herself and hurried to follow. Ymir busied herself with fastening the lid back on the bottle that started this whole mess while Krista lowered herself into the cracked leather seat.

  
"Your floor is sticky," Krista commented.

  
"Yeah, this piece of shit pop spilled."

  
Krista cocked her head and looked at Ymir as the driver slowly accelerated. She narrowed her eyes half-seriously. "Is that why you hit me?"

  
Ymir's silence was telling. Krista laughed.

  
"You can have the rest, if you want." Ymir didn't know why she said that. "It tried to kill you, after all, so that would be fitting revenge." Biting her cheek to keep from backtracking, Ymir cursed herself. Krista wouldn't want to drink from the same bottle as her, come on.

  
"So the Dr. Pepper was the one driving." Without batting an eyelash the blonde grabbed the bottle and took a sip. "That explains why I almost died."

  
"It deliberately chose that moment to fall over and make me chase it, okay? I'm just as much a victim as you are." Ymir chuckled as Krista giggled.

  
"We'll have to go to counseling together to overcome this traumatic experience." Krista drained the bottle to all but a swallow. She licked her lips. Ymir stared. "You should finish it--get closure and stuff."

  
It was a good thing they were stopped at a sign, or Ymir might have swerved and hit someone else. Krista wiggled the bottle back and forth for a bit before Ymir gathered herself enough to accept it.

  
Draining it and throwing the empty bottle out of the window before speeding off once more, Ymir facetiously said, "I've had worse first kisses."

  
"That was not our first kiss!" Krista replied indignantly.

  
"Krista, we just swapped spit--might as well have." They pulled up to Ymir's building.

  
"I don't know about you, but there's a lot more to it when I kiss someone, Ymir." It might have been wishful thinking, but Ymir could have sworn there was something new in Krista's voice. Especially when she said her name.

  
"You'll have to convince me otherwise, then, won't you?" Ymir gave her a sidelong wink before stepping out of the car. She had enough time to grab both shopping bags from the backseat before Krista got out and offered to carry one. Ymir refused. Krista insisted.

  
"Jesus Christ, you're way too nice," Ymir relented, handing her the lighter bag with the Doritos. " _I hit you with my car_. You should be extorting money and favors from me, not carrying my groceries."  
Krista merely shrugged. Ymir decided she might be an angel. A stupid, beautiful angel.

  
Stepping inside her crappy apartment, Ymir reclaimed the Doritos from her companion while Krista shed her sticky shoes.

  
"I've got Band-Aids and spray in the bathroom," said Ymir while depositing the bags on her kitchen counter. "It's down the hall here."

  
In the bathroom, Krista hopped onto the counter beside the sink while Ymir retrieved a spray bottle of Bactine and two different Band-Aid boxes. This close, Ymir could smell her pretty house guest's light perfume.

  
"Winnie the Pooh or Spongebob?"

Krista burst out into giggles. "Are you secretly an eight-year-old?"

  
Ymir frowned and sprayed Krista's knees without warning. Krista hissed. "Shut up. If anyone is an eight-year-old here, it's you. You're so tiny that I thought I was gonna go to jail for running over a child."

  
"I'm eighteen!" The blonde smacked her nurse on the shoulder. "I can vote and everything."

  
"Twenty." Ymir decided to use one kind of bandage for each knee. "So do you go to the university, or did you steal that sweater?"

  
"Freshman at Trost. How about you?"

  
Ymir snorted. "Hell to the no. I wouldn't go back on campus for the keys to a shiny new Australia." Krista gave her a weird look. "Dr. Horrible?" Krista continued to stare. "What the fuck, you haven't seen Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along-Blog?" A shake of the head. "It's got singing and supervillains. What is wrong with you."

  
"Apparently I have led a very sheltered life." Krista blushed.

  
"That's it. I am making mac and cheese and we are watching it." Ymir paused halfway to the bathroom door. "I mean, if you want to stick around and you don't have anywhere to be or whatever."  
Beaming, Krista got down from the counter and linked her arm with Ymir's.

"Let's go."

 

* * *

  
During the course of pasta preparation, Ymir learned that Krista's family pressured her into attending Trost U and she had no idea what she wanted to study. Krista learned that Ymir had paid for one semester before realizing that college was absolute bullshit and dropping out. If she was going to graduate in crippling debt and unable to get any job beyond minimum wage, Ymir figured she would skip the middle man and go straight to the job.

  
With bowls of macaroni on their laps and the bag of Doritos between them, the pair sat on the couch to watch the movie on Ymir's flatscreen. It was an older model, so the color wasn't quite right unless you sat on the back of the couch instead of the cushions, but neither minded much. Ymir prided herself on only blushing a little every time their hands brushed while reaching for another chip.  
"That was really good," Krista said as Ymir walked her to the door. "I had never even heard of it before."

  
Ymir opened the door and they stepped into the hall. "I wonder what else I can show you."

  
Krista smiled at her. "I look forward to finding out."

  
Returning the smile, Ymir held out her hand and demanded, "Gimme your phone." At Krista's questioning look, she rolled her eyes and elaborated. "So you can call me and we can do this again."  
When Ymir handed back the phone, Krista guffawed at her new contact. " 'Sexy Freckle Bitch?' "

  
"Accurate."

  
They laughed together for a bit before their smiles tapered off and they were left gazing at one another. Ymir's eyes kept darting from Krista's startlingly clear eyes to her pretty pink lips. She opened her mouth to say something when Krista threw herself into her arms and kissed her.

  
Krista was absolutely right; there was much more to her kisses than swapping spit. Ymir pulled her back inside and shut the door.


End file.
